


Diamonds and Rust

by toyhto



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Inspired by Diamonds and Rust, Loneliness, M/M, Unrequited Love, but also smut, see for yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 18:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7945165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“My heart would get broken,” he says roughly, “that’s why."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sirius draws his hand back. “I wonder how that feels."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I don’t.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diamonds and Rust

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by Diamonds and Rust, a beautiful (I mean, the most beautiful ever) song written and sang by Joan Baez.
> 
> Also apparently inspired by my weird wish to write something that makes my own heart ache.

His hands are shaking. He knows this voice. It’s been ten years and more, and still he knows the voice now coming to him shattered and distant.  
  
“Where are you calling from?”  
  
“Minnesota,” says the voice on the phone, laughing dryly, and he tries to catch his breath. He doesn’t even have cigarettes anymore, he’s been trying to quit for years and it seems he chose the wrong time to finally manage it. “Some weary small town. This is the second phone booth I tried.”  
  
_And why are you calling me,_ he should be asking. Thirteen years, that’s how long it's been, he’s almost sure. They kissed middle of the night in an empty gas station and said _see you soon._ He drove down to Texas where he was performing in some small clubs and he thought, _perhaps three weeks_ , then he would go to Los Angeles and they would meet again, and then perhaps he would tell him. But he didn’t. They didn’t. And now it’s been thirteen fucking years and he’s holding the phone and walking around in his small flat, trying to make some sense into it.  
  
“So, how are you?”  
  
He takes a deep breath but it doesn’t really help. “Fine, thank you. And how about you?”  
  
“I missed you.” There’s a smile lingering in that voice, and he has to close his eyes.  
  
“So why didn’t you call me?” He shouldn’t ask, he definitely shouldn’t. But he tries to make it sound like a joke.  
  
“Probably the same reason you didn’t call me.”  
  
He feels like laughing, because _sure, sure it's the same reason. Sure you didn’t call me because you were so crazy about me you didn’t know what you would do if I didn’t want to see you again._ Also he feels like crying. He goes to the window and opens it. Perhaps if he hadn’t spent the whole day reading on his sofa, he would have been more prepared for this call.  
  
_Fuck no._ Nothing would have helped him with this.  
  
“Sirius,” he says, and it feels like talking to a ghost, which is probably because he has called that name so many times alone in his bedroom when the lights have gone out, “I’m glad you called.”  
  
“You don’t sound glad,” Sirius says, but there’s something gentle in his voice. Remus sits down, the phone on his lap, and it’s funny but he feels a bit better now that the name is out there.  
  
“I am, though. I’m just surprised.”  
  
“It’s been a long time. I think ten years – “  
  
“Thirteen.”  
  
“I knew you’d count.”  
  
“Well,” Remus says slowly and can’t make his voice as light as Sirius’, “I did.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Sirius says and Remus bites his lips, because he know this tone, he knows it in his spine. This is the tone Sirius had in October 1981, in a very small hotel room in New York, when he was slowly kissing his way down from Remus’ neck. It was early in the morning, he thinks now, the sun was barely up and they hadn’t gone into sleep yet and there was a record playing but he can’t recall which one it was, but anyway he recalls Sirius’ wet lazy lips on his skin. “I’d like to see you.”  
  
He’s still lingering in that hotel room and doesn’t realize right away what Sirius is saying, and when he does, he coughs and has to walk back to the window, and he thinks Sirius is laughing at him but can’t be sure.  
  
“Why?” he asks, even though it’s probably the wrong thing to say.  
  
“Wouldn’t you like to see me?”  
  
“Yes. Of course. But – “  
  
“I missed you, Remus Lupin,” Sirius says with a gentle tone, and probably Sirius is mocking him but he can’t make himself to mind too much. “I missed the way you speak. I’ve probably missed the way you look, also, but I can’t say for sure until we meet. Can I come there?”  
  
“You’re in Minnesota.”  
  
“Sure. I have a car now. I’ll be there in two days.”  
  
“Two days,” he says and thinks, _I’ll be sitting here for two days, waiting for him. I’ll go mad.  
  
_ “Yeah. Don’t go anywhere.”  
  
_Like I would._ “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”  
  
“I have gigs in South in two weeks but nothing before that. And it’s not like Mom is waiting for me to come and say hi.”  
  
“And you don’t… you don’t…”  
  
“I know exactly how your face looks like right now and I love it,” Sirius says. “Or I think I know, it’s been fucking thirteen years, but well, I always thought I had a good memory. I’ll be there in two days. We’ll talk then.”  
  
“Yes,” he says, inhaling deeply. “Fine.”  
  
“Buy some wine,” Sirius says, “and food. I like food.” And then he hangs up.  
  
**  
  
He sees right away that Sirius hasn’t changed much. Sure, he looks tired like a man who’s been driving for two days. Sure, not sleeping worked better for him when he wasn’t thirty-four. But he’s still handsome, so handsome Remus feels his breath getting caught somewhere in his lungs.  
  
He’s not sure at all if he can do this. When they first met, he thought he would be a musician. He thought he would write songs that make people cry and sure, he’s written many songs that make his mother cry, but that’s about it. These days he works part-time hours at a diner down the street and when he’s not working, he reads books someone else has written. Every time he finds a good one he gets very bitter.  
  
He’s not the kind of a man Sirius Black would want to have a fling with. At least not anymore, though he’s pretty certain the last time he also had hard time believing it was true and that he wasn’t just having very imaginative and well-illustrated dreams.  
  
“Hello,” Sirius says as he steps out of the car, and Remus bites his lower lip. Sirius’ voice is a bit hoarser now and he likes it, he really does. This is not going to end well.  
  
“Hi,” he manages and wonders if Sirius wants to shake hands or perhaps hug. He doesn’t know if he can do hugs right now. “How was your trip?”  
  
“I have to take a piss. I wanted to get here as soon as I could and so I didn’t make stops.”  
  
“My flat is right – “  
  
“There’s no time,” Sirius says and steps into the side of the parking lot. Remus wants to look elsewhere but can’t, and at least Sirius turns away from him so that he’s only staring at his back and long messy black hair that’s falling onto lean shoulders. He used to have his fingers tangled up in that hair. He wonders if he will again.  
  
Finally Sirius finishes with a long sigh. Remus stares at his car as he turns around, but he can still see the cocked eyebrow.  
  
“You were staring at me.”  
  
“No, I – “  
  
“Shit, you’re blushing,” Sirius says with a wide grin. “So you _were_ staring at me. Oh, Lupin. I should have come sooner.”  
  
“Yes,” he says, clearing his throat, because clearly he can’t find words, like, _at all._ And he’s blushing. He’s a thirty-four-year-old standing on the parking lot with a man he had _a thing_ with in the early eighties and he’s still fucking blushing. _Shit._  
  
“Let’s go inside,” Sirius says. “I was surprised that you answered the phone, it’s like a miracle that you haven’t moved ten times in these years. I’m starving, did I ask you to get food?”  
  
“Yes,” Remus says but Sirius is already walking. His direction is wrong but well, it’s been thirteen years. When Remus clears his throat and points at the house he’s actually living in, Sirius just shrugs and smiles at him and suddenly it’s difficult to breathe.  
  
It might be a good thing, really. It’s been years since he’s even been seeing anyone. Last spring he tried to kiss a guy in a bar and they kicked him on the stomach in the parking lot and since that happened he hasn’t bothered at all. It should be nice to know that he can still have a crush so huge it turns him into a stuttering idiot. He thought he had become a cynic but perhaps he hasn’t.  
  
“Chinese?” Sirius asks when Remus unlocks the door.  
  
“Yeah. Is it – “  
  
“I would eat anything right now,” Sirius says, walking straight to his sofa and sitting onto it, “and Chinese is the best there is.”  
  
“Great.” He stands in the doorway. Perhaps he should sit next to Sirius. He almost does and then changes his mind and takes a pile of books away from his only chair. He can feel Sirius watching him when he sits down, but when he turns his head to answer the gaze the man has his eyes closed and mouth full of food.  
  
“So,” Sirius says a few minutes later, when there’s no food left and the couple upstairs is once again shouting at each other, “you still live here.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You want me to ask you or not?”  
  
He looks intensely at the poster on the opposite wall. “I’ve heard things are going quite good for you.”  
  
“It’s just, you know, things,” Sirius says. “I go and play and people come and listen. They know the lyrics and they think they know me. And sometimes I get fooled too, and then I think I’ve finally done something that’s good and not going to fade, and that I can change these people, and that if they can sing along they know who I am, and then afterwards I always drink too much and oh, Remus, I’m too old to drink. I really am. Once I threw up in my own bed.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be, you fucking idiot,” Sirius says fondly, and Remus swallows. “I came here because I missed you. I didn’t mean not to call in thirteen years. If you have to know, I’ve been thinking of you, like, at least once a week, or more. Sometimes once a day. You know what I was like when I didn’t have a single hit playing on the radio.”  
  
“You were stupid,” Remus says and then coughs, because his voice is hoarse and really not working at all, “and reckless, and you thought you would be a rock star.”  
  
“Well, I was right,” Sirius says with a smile that looks tired, “in a way. And now I want to be twenty-one again and kiss a stranger in the backstage after a gig in a tiny little bar in New York and I want to feel that kiss in my toes.”  
  
“Toes?” Sirius cocks his eyebrow and Remus swallows, again. “Okay. Fine. _Toes._ ”  
  
“Didn’t you?” Sirius asks in a low voice, and the couple upstairs is shouting louder, and Remus feels his heart drumming in his chest. “Didn’t you feel it in your toes?”  
  
“I don’t remember,” he lies, “maybe. I really… I really liked you.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“I should have tried to call you but I was too… I was afraid you wouldn’t answer or you would and you’d be different and…”  
  
“I know,” Sirius says when Remus runs out of words, “don’t worry. It’s okay. I’m here now.”  
  
_Yes,_ he thinks, _but how long, and it seems that I’m just as mad about you as I was then._ “Are you tired?”  
  
Sirius watches him with narrowed eyes. “If that means ‘can we go to bed and have sex’ then yes, I am. Oh, do blush, I really like it when you do. But I must warn you. I’m old now. I can only go once these days.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Remus barks, “it’s definitely fine. I have… I haven’t… I haven’t been…”  
  
“Yes?” Sirius asks politely, and surely he’s mocking him, he must be.  
  
“I haven’t been with anyone since… since… 1992, I think.”  
  
Sirius frowns. “Well, at least you’ve got laid a few times since me. Come on, Remus, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m really just a guy who called you because he missed you and because he really, really liked you when he was twenty-one and stupid and reckless.”  
  
“You might not – “  
  
“I’ll still like you,” Sirius says, “and now shut up.”  
  
First time they kissed was in December 1980. Sirius had a gig in New York and Remus had been in the city for two weeks. He was staying with his aunt and trying to get into meetings with people who might give him a record deal, and that night he had almost decided to go to sleep early because the first band was so crappy. But then Sirius came to the stage and he stayed and afterwards he went to the backstage because he had been drinking whiskey and whiskey always made him do stupid things. He meant to say _I liked your songs_ but mumbled out something completely inappropriate instead, and Sirius grinned widely, kissed him on his mouth and said _I hope you aren’t straight.  
  
_ Now he hasn’t drunk whiskey in years and he doesn’t seem to be able to say anything, and Sirius doesn’t grin and doesn’t ask him about his preferences because it’s clear enough. He sits onto the floor which probably is a bit stupid, but he doesn’t care, he’s holding his hands on Sirius’ thighs and sitting pretty much between them and it’s unbearably hot and he’s not sure he’s as much as touched another living human being in months. Sirius leans onto him and pushes his fingers onto his hair, and he takes a sharp breath and tries to get closer but if he moves one more inch he’s practically leaning against Sirius’ lap and that seems like a move a bit too forward after thirteen years.  
  
He kisses Sirius instead and Sirius opens his lips for him, and he can’t help it, he moans loudly. Sirius laughs with a soft tone and then grabs his hair a bit tighter and licks his lower lip and his teeth and oh, _oh,_ he didn’t remember, he really didn’t. He thought he was fine with his books but he wasn’t, he hasn’t been fine since that night at the gas station in 1981. And there’s cold fear in his stomach and he tries to push it away but can’t, because he will lose this, it happened back then and it will happen again and it will be unbearable.  
  
“Stop thinking,” Sirius says, pulling him closer.  
  
“I can’t,” he says.  
  
“Stop fucking thinking,” Sirius says, firmer, and now Remus is really leaning against him, “and open my zipper.”  
  
He bits his lip. He’s going to break his heart, he’s sure of it, and his fingers tremble when he presses his hands against Sirius’ too tight jeans and does what he’s been told. Sirius sighs deeply and the fingers in Remus’ hair tighten and he undoes the buttons of Sirius’ shirt too, and kisses his stomach and the coarse hair under his navel, and when he’s about to go down Sirius calls his name.  
  
“Remus,” Sirius, moans, taking deep breaths, “Remus, Remus, _Remus,_ I’ll do it for you, please, let me, it’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone who _knows_ me. Undress me and I’ll blow you or whatever you want, you can fuck me if you like, yes, oh _yes –_ “  
  
“I would have – “  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Sirius says, pulling him up and kissing him, wet kisses on his mouth, and his hands are still grabbing Sirius’ thighs, “but later. You go first.”  
  
“Oh,” he says, “no. I want you. I want you to… to…”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Sirius, I really – “  
  
“Just say it.” Sirius is kissing his ear now, and he tries to catch his breath, wondering how all this happened. He was just reading a book and minding his own business when the phone rang, and now he’s kneeling in front of Sirius on his own floor, hands on Sirius’ thighs and Sirius’ tongue on his earlobe and his hands are clumsy and he can’t really talk at all and still this beautiful, beautiful man on his sofa is pulling his cardigan off him.  
  
“I want you – “ he manages, “ – to fuck me – “  
  
Sirius kisses him on the mouth. “Yes. _Yes._ Where?”  
  
“Bed.”  
  
“Right. And it’s – “  
  
“Bedroom.”  
  
“ _Right._ So, more kissing or – “  
  
“Now.”  
  
“Good,” Sirius says, “good, we’re thirteen years late anyway. Undress me. I want you to do it.”  
  
“I am doing it,” Remus says, because he is, he’s pulling Sirius’ jeans off and the man isn’t really helping, but finally he manages it, and then he pushes the shirt off Sirius’ shoulders, it was half-gone already anyway. And then he pulls down Sirius’ underpants and bits his lip and freezes, it’s been too long, he doesn’t know how… but Sirius grabs his hands and pulls him up and then does the same for him, and he’s shaking because it’s cold and because he’s fucking terrified and also so happy he doesn’t know how to handle it.  
  
He gets pushed onto the bed. Before Sirius he had thought he didn’t like this, he knew he was gay but he thought this just wasn’t for him, but then Sirius bought him a couple of drinks after that one gig, and he insisted on paying but Sirius wouldn’t let him, and he was nervous as hell when he followed him to that hotel room but Sirius only kissed him and asked about his music, about his songs. And then in the morning when they had fallen asleep without meaning to and later woke up to the dim light coming through the window, they began kissing on the bed and finally Sirius asked _can I_ and he said _yes_ even though he didn’t know if he wanted to, and that’s pretty much when he realized he had been trying to do it with wrong people. Sirius didn’t rush and tried not to hurt him and kept kissing his neck and wrapped his fingers around him just when he thought it was getting a bit uncomfortable, and in the end he was lying naked on the bed, absently wondering what the hell had just happened.  
  
But now it’s different. Now his body remembers everything, knows what to wait and aches for it, and he keeps his eyes closed and tries to think about nothing else but this right now, right here. He wants to close the lights but Sirius won’t let him and he wants to turn his back on him but that won’t do either, and in the end Sirius has one arm wrapped around his back, holding him, and his wrist hurt when he tries to keep himself from falling backwards, and Sirius’ legs must go numb. It’s quite difficult but worth it, because Sirius keeps kissing him clumsily, and when Sirius comes Remus can watch his face, his half-closed eyes and lips that are wordlessly mouthing his name.  
  
And then he comes too, and Sirius pulls him closer and holds him. He tries not to fall asleep with Sirius’ arm wrapped around him, because it must be a bad idea and he’s going to fall in love again if he hasn’t already. He wakes up about five o’clock in the morning when he definitely has to pee, and when he gets out of the bed he kisses Sirius fingers first and Sirius smiles in his sleep.  
  
_Fuck,_ he thinks in the toilet, _I never got over him._  
  
**  
  
“You tried to ask me,” Sirius says, feet on Remus’ coffee table and third cup of coffee hanging dangerously on his lap, “on the phone.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“If I have someone.”  
  
“I did not.” He looks around from the sofa where he’s sitting as close to Sirius as he can without actually touching the man. He’s not wearing a shirt and it seems they’re going to talk about things that are better to talk about with a shirt on.  
  
“You did too. You tried to but then you chickened out.”  
  
He swallows. Of course he remembers. He had a tight knot on his stomach and he told himself, _if he had someone he wouldn’t be coming to me._ “Well, then. Have you?”  
  
“Of course not,” Sirius says with a slow smile. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”  
  
“Fine,” he says, burying his face onto his cup of coffee.  
  
“You’re happy.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You really like me,” Sirius says, watching him with a frown, “like, if I wasn’t a rock star you’d like me anyway."  
  
“I would,” he says. He shouldn’t be saying things like that, though. It’s going to make it only worse when one day Sirius leaves again.  
  
“Remus.”  
  
He takes a deep sigh and looks Sirius into the grey eyes that are now closely watching his. He’s quite sure he thought for a few seconds he was still dreaming, when the sun shone brightly onto his eyes and he opened them and realized there was one naked Sirius Black lying beside him on the bed. It seems he’s still not sure. He made coffee and now he’s holding his breath, waiting for something to happen, but Sirius just keeps sitting on his sofa. “Yeah?”  
  
“I suppose that’s something everyone’s looking for,” Sirius says, biting his lower lip, “I mean, someone who likes them for real.”  
  
“I wouldn’t know.”  
  
“Really? You aren’t looking for that kind of a thing?”  
  
_No_ , he wants to say. He could say that much. What he can’t say is that he’s beginning to think he’s been mainly looking for Sirius all these years. He’s been waiting for him to call and isn’t that pathetic. He hasn’t really bothered trying to find someone else, someone who might like him _for real_ , because his heart has kept aching for the one man who kissed him wetly on his mouth and said _see you_ and then didn’t see him for thirteen years.  
  
“You don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
“Not really,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Perhaps we should do something. We could go out.”  
  
“To do what?”  
  
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”  
  
“What do you normally do?”  
  
“I go to work,” Remus says, “and when I don’t, I read books. On Sundays I have lunch with Mom if I’m not working.”  
  
“You don’t have work today.”  
  
He shakes his head. He asked Annie to cover for him today, a nice girl who tried to hit on him regularly until he one day grabbed her shoulders and said _Annie, I’m gay._ Sirius narrows his eyes but doesn’t ask, and frankly speaking he’s not sure Sirius knows anything about regular work.  
  
“Do you want to read to me?”  
  
He laughs out aloud. “No. I’m crap at that. I don’t have the patience. You can read to me, though, if you want.”  
  
He waits for Sirius to laugh but he doesn’t. “Maybe I will. Later. So we’ll have to go and see your Mom then.”  
  
“We definitely won’t do that.”  
  
“So what are you saying? That we should just stay in and fuck?”  
  
He inhales deeply. It doesn’t sound a joke, and he’s pretty tired in a way that probably has only a little to do with how they spent the last night. “How long are you staying?”  
  
“Remus,” Sirius says with a soft voice, and Remus stands up and goes to the small kitchen because he really can’t face the man now. “You know you can’t ask me that.”  
  
“You have gigs in South,” he says in a flat tone, “in two weeks.”  
  
“What do you think – “ Sirius starts slowly, and Remus leans against the kitchen table that gives out a loud creak, “ – would happen if we just left everything else? Like, if we just got into the car and started driving? In two weeks, would we hate each other?”  
  
_Perhaps_ , he thinks. “No,” he says.  
  
“And until that… until that we’d just drive. We’d drive ‘till South and ‘till North and wherever we’d like to. And we’d eat in crappy diners in dying small towns and we’d sleep on motels and our neighbors would be middle-aged husbands cheating their wives,” Sirius pauses for a second, “and wives cheating their husbands, and the walls would be paper-thin and we’d fuck in the afternoon and sleep too long and drink and I might throw up in the bed.”  
  
“I’d kick you out.”  
  
“I’d kiss you,” Sirius says, triumphantly, “I’d kiss you with vomit on my jaw and you wouldn’t be able to kick me out because you’d be already kissing me back.”  
  
_Yes._ “I’d lock you out and steel your cigarettes.”  
  
“You would never. I’d be so angry you wouldn’t dare come back.”  
  
“You would be throwing up,” Remus says, pressing his eyes closed for just a second and then walking back to the living room, “remember?”  
  
“Oh,” Sirius frowns, “I forgot about that. So. Do you want to try it?”  
  
He sits down beside Sirius. Their thighs get pushed together and he swallows, but it’s okay, it has to be. Sirius raises his hand and before he can say anything, there’re fingers playing with the hair in his neck. He draws a sharp breath and Sirius gives him a short smile. “No.”  
  
“Why the hell not?” Sirius’ fingers are drawing circles on his skin, and he has somehow pressed his hand onto Sirius’ thigh.  
  
“My heart would get broken,” he says roughly, “that’s why.”  
  
Sirius draws his hand back. “I wonder how that feels.”  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
**  
  
He climbs onto the stage and sits down, bringing his guitar onto his lip and trying to set the mic a bit closer, failing, and then he says something with a very nervous voice and no one laughs with him. _Oh well._ His fingers are clumsy and he’s sweating and at first all he can think of is _I’m out of tune, I can’t do this anymore, it’s been too long._ But Sirius keeps watching him and he swallows, he wrote this song two weeks after they had kissed at that empty gas station and he was still waiting for Sirius to call every fucking day, and there was this silly hope going through his veins that made the world seem different to him. It was false, he knows it know, but as he sings he remembers what it felt like and he can feel it now and it frightens him. This is the only way he can say it aloud. His fingers aren’t that clumsy after all and he’s been rarely singing lately but he knows this song through and through.  
  
Later they walk back to his flat in silence. It’s dark and there are stars on the sky, and it’s really quite cold but when he starts shivering, Sirius suddenly pulls him closer. He’s not sure he’s ever before walked like this, someone’s arm resting on his shoulder, and it’s not practical at all but he feels like smiling.  
  
“Why did you stop playing?” Sirius asks then and doesn’t let go even though Remus startles.  
  
“You don’t know I did.”  
  
“But I do. You look sad when you watch me.”  
  
“There’re many reasons why I would look sad when I watch you.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sirius says, laughing shortly. “because I’m so ugly and you dislike me.”  
  
“I didn’t stop playing,” he says and Sirius goes silent but still holds him close, “I stopped writing. I lost my words. I kept trying for a while but it just… it just didn’t work anymore. I was sitting on my sofa holding my guitar and nothing came out.”  
  
“One night,” Sirius says softly, “I woke up and you were gone and when I went to the living room you were sitting there, writing, and your eyes were red and you said _not now, Sirius._ ”  
  
He remembers it. It was a week before Sirius left for good, and back then he was kind of thinking they’d be together forever. He only realized it when weeks came by and Sirius didn’t call and he felt emptier every day. He had counted on Sirius and he only came to know it when he had already lost him.  
  
“I miss that,” he says now, “I miss how it feels.”  
  
“I sometimes think that if I stopped writing, I’d completely forget who I was,” Sirius says, and Remus can’t make himself look at him but he can hear the frown in his voice. “Because sometimes I forget for a while, I really do. There are always girls in the front row, and sometimes boys, too, and they cry if I smile at them and if I talk to them after the gig they sometimes try to kiss me. And they keep telling me I’m brilliant, and I think I have to tell them that I’m not, I’m just me, I’m just this stupid boy who didn’t get along with his mom and dad and who messed things up with his little brother and dropped out of school and who plays guitar because he can’t do anything else. But if I tell them, they won’t believe me. They look at me like they know me and I think even I don’t know me anymore.” He takes a sharp breath and steps away, and Remus lets him. “Shit, _shit._ I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… to…”  
  
“It’s okay.”  
  
“But it’s really not,” Sirius says, a weird edge in his voice, “because I think you might be in love with me.”  
  
Remus stops walking. Cars keep passing them by and throwing light on their faces as they do. Sirius watches him mouth pressed tightly shut and with a deep brown, and he swallows and tries to find words and finally he does, “fuck you. _Fuck you,_ Sirius. You don’t get to say that.”  
  
“I don’t know how to,” Sirius says in a desperate tone that makes Remus shiver, “I want to but I don’t know how to do it.”  
  
“It’s not something you _do,”_ he says sharply, “you fucking idiot, it’s not… it’s not… you can’t tell me I’m in love with you, that’s so… _rude._ ”  
  
“But it’s true.”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
“You said that already,” Sirius says, and Remus tries to breathe but it’s hard, and for a moment he has a wild urge to step into the road and get hit by a car. But he doesn’t. He would never. He’s not one of those people, and instead he’s one of those who go and see their mother once a week. “You can, you know. If you want to. That much I can do, like, whenever you want. I wish there was more.”  
  
“You can’t just say things like that.” Remus finds that he’s almost shouting, but there’s no one else here, it seems that they are the only ones awake, walking through this quiet town in the middle of the night,” you just can’t. I hate you. I want to hate you. You come back after thirteen years and then… then…”  
  
“I still don’t love you,” Sirius says with a low voice.  
  
“Yes!” Remus says, his own voice loud and harsh and fuck he might be starting to cry. “That’s fucking cruel, Sirius, it is. I never want to see you again, I – “  
  
“I’m so sorry.”  
  
“I don’t care! I want you gone, I want you gone right away – “  
  
“I want to,” Sirius says, but Remus has started to walk faster and Sirius’ voice is distant and very quiet. “I would if I knew how.”  
  
“Everyone knows how,” he hears himself saying even though that’s not true. _He_ doesn’t know how. He just does. It’s not something you choose and he knows that, he fucking knows, because if there was a choice to be made he would have forgot about Sirius Black all those years ago.  
  
Sirius says something but he can’t hear anymore. He’s almost running. When he gets to his flat he locks the door and leans against it and breathes and sobs, and then he falls down onto the floor and cries onto his hands until he has snot on his nose and a terrible headache. Then he slowly raises up and walks to the window but there’s no one to see. He thinks he can see Sirius’ car still in the parking lot but he’s not sure, and he waits for the knock on the door that doesn’t come. And finally he falls asleep.  
  
**  
  
His face is swollen and at first he doesn’t remember why. Then he stumbles up and almost collides with the chair and then he’s at the window, and there’s a man in the parking lot, leaning against his car, his hair messy and his clothes wrinkled, and Remus swallows.  
  
Sirius doesn’t look up when he walks to him. He wonders if the man slept at all, probably not, and also he wonders if he’s ever felt worse than right now.  
  
“Sorry,” he says finally, and his voice almost crumbles with the word.  
  
Sirius shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I can’t fall in love with you.”  
  
“Was it the same last time? Is that why you didn’t call me?”  
  
“You didn’t call me either,” Sirius says, his voice soft but his eyes sad. “But… maybe. I don’t know. It’s been a long time. You loved me, though.”  
  
“I’m afraid I never stopped.”  
  
“Do you want me to go? I will if you do.”  
  
“Do you want to go?”  
  
Sirius shakes his head, and Remus feels a voiceless laughter building inside him. “Fine. Don’t go.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah. Stay. I don’t think I can get screwed much worse than I already am.”  
  
He sees Sirius swallowing and wants to look elsewhere but can’t, he just keeps staring at his mouth, and Sirius wets his lips and says, “I wonder how it feels.”  
  
“Like hell,” he says and Sirius startles. “It feels like I’m going to cry for a month after you leave.”  
  
“I might not.”  
  
“But you will,” Remus says, “you will. And you have to. I won’t take your pity, Sirius, I won’t, I want you to stay if you want to, but the minute you want to leave you have to. It’s the way it is.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Sirius says very quietly, “perhaps if I try – “  
  
“Stop it,” he says, turning away, “just fucking stop it already. I don’t want to hear. I want to go back inside and drink coffee with you and sit on the sofa and watch TV and I want your fingers on my neck and I want to fuck you until you beg me to touch you.”  
  
“Remus – “  
  
“And please, please kiss me,” he says, and Sirius tries to grab his hand but he keeps on walking, “I want you to hold my face and kiss me like you might eat me by accident and not care at all – “  
  
“Shit,” Sirius says, “I will, of course I will. I always liked to kiss you. You’re the only fucking person I’ve ever really missed, it has to mean something – “  
  
“Don’t talk. Just fucking stop talking already.”  
  
He thinks he might cry but in the end he doesn’t. Sirius kisses him with wet kisses that say _sorry, sorry_ and he kisses him back, trying to hold his own pieces together. And then later Sirius leans forward on the bed and he grabs his hips, a bit tighter than necessary perhaps, and he wants to kiss his neck, all the way down the spine, all the way, but he can’t reach and anyway Sirius is asking him to fucking do it already, and he does. He thinks hazily that he might have been a bit too daring earlier in the parking lot, because now that he’s inside him there’s no way he can make Sirius beg, he’s far too gone himself. _Please_ , Sirius says anyway, maybe to make him feel better. He doesn’t last long, and later he finishes Sirius off and his other hand is pushed into Sirius’ black curls, and Sirius places wet kisses on all over his face and comes onto his hand and he won’t let go for what feels like minutes.  
  
It’s not like he didn’t know. He keeps his eyes closed and feels Sirius’ breathing go steadier, and the morning light shines through the window, bright and unforgiving. But it’s fine. Right now he almost thinks it’s fine, and Sirius shifts suddenly and looks at him and says, “I think I fell asleep.”  
  
**  
  
“Who’s that?”  
  
“Joan Baez,” he says, and Sirius smiles at him.  
  
“Ah. _Diamonds and Rust._ I remember.”  
  
“You never liked this one.”  
  
“I did,” Sirius claims, “I just didn’t understand it.”  
  
_Well, there you go_ , Remus thinks and closes his eyes. It’s almost midnight. They have spent the whole day talking and playing the guitar and eating take-away and watching crappy TV shows, and sometimes he forgets how he cried last night. Tomorrow he’ll have to go to work and he hopes Sirius will be there when he comes back home in the evening. He thinks probably he won’t.  
  
_And if you’re offering me diamonds and rust,_ Joan Baez says, _I’ve already paid._  
  
“I could kiss you,” Sirius says from the kitchen where he’s making more coffee and, apparently, whistling slightly off-tune, “if only you were here.”  
  
“It’s just four steps from there to here.”  
  
“I guess you’ll just have to wait for it then.”  
  
_I will_ , he thinks, _I fucking will._ “I don’t really know what I see in you.”  
  
He’s sure he manages well with his light tone, but Sirius freezes anyway. “Me neither.”  
  
“Oh. I didn’t – “  
  
“I changed my mind,” Sirius says, putting his cup of coffee aside. The song has died off and it’s all quiet beside a loud Spanish TV-show the neighbors are apparently watching. “I think I’ll have that kiss after all. Even if I have to walk.”  
  
“You are so sweet.”  
  
“ _You_ are,” Sirius says, sitting down next to him and grabbing his arm, “shit, Remus, you really are.”  
  
“Where’s that kiss then?” he asks.

**Author's Note:**

> This story surprised me quite a lot. It was supposed to be about old lovers meeting after being years apart, and maybe about some sweet heartache. But now I feel it's, at least to me, quite a lot about unrequited loved and the pain when you really want someone who doesn't want you back in a way you'd like to, which has been a theme I've been writing about quite a lot, like, years ago.
> 
> I don't know what Joan Baez's song is about and frankly, I think every story and every song is about whatever the reader and listener thinks it's about. But writing this made me remember feeling things I hadn't felt for a long time, and I'm confused.
> 
> If you read it and liked it, please let me know! I suppose I'm writing to make my own heart ache... but I'm probably publishing for you guys out there.


End file.
